


The Elf and the Commander

by 1000001nights



Series: Tales From Thedas [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Skyhold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000001nights/pseuds/1000001nights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Cullen attempts to perform routine training in Skyhold, Fenris looms over him, leading to a confrontation between the two that draws an audience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elf and the Commander

“You’ve changed your hair.”  
  
Cullen was sitting at his desk, sifting through papers and missives and letters and orders and requisitions. It was enough to think about on its own, without the elf’s intrusion. “Fenris,” Cullen said, trying to remain calm. “So have you.”

The elf ran his hand through his half-shaved locks, tied at the back of his head in a neat bun. A grin spread across his face, then, and Cullen didn’t like what it meant. More of his tattoos were visible than when Cullen had last seen him, and they gave him a more savage look. His face was weathered, too, like water-beaten stone. He’d seen more battles, worse than Kirkwall by the look of it. Cullen had, too, but he tried not to think about it, either for himself or for the elf. He didn’t know why Fenris was at Skyhold, but from experience, he knew it wouldn’t be good. “What are you doing here, Fenris?” Cullen asked. “It’s been a long time since Kirkwall. I…” He didn’t know what to say.  
  
“Just visiting,” Fenris growled. “Have you seen Hawke?”  
  
“I can’t say that I have,” Cullen said, looking over his papers, trying to ignore the lyrium-streaked ghost from his past. “Not recently, anyway.”  
  
“Hmm,” Fenris said dismissively, examining Cullen’s bookshelf. He crossed his arms and looked over the spines of the books quickly, skimming and scanning without much real interest. His presence made Cullen anxious. “What about the Inquisitor?” Fenris asked.  
  
“I… I wouldn’t know,” Cullen said distractedly.  
  
“Well, it’s good to see Kirkwall didn’t destroy you, anyway,” Fenris said. Cullen wasn’t sure it was a compliment.  
  
“Listen Fenris, I’m afraid I’m very busy,” Cullen said levelly. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but if you don’t mind, I have a lot of things to do…”  
  
“Such as?” Fenris asked, leaning against the bookshelf and crossing his mailed arms.  
  
“Well, for starters, there’s training exercises for the new recruits, which started ten minutes ago. Not to mention… Never mind. Do you mind if I go? I’m sure Varric or someone can…”  
  
“Go on,” Fenris said. “I understand.”

Cullen got up tentatively from his desk and crossed to the door leading to the battlements overlooking the tavern. He hoped that he didn’t seem hurried, though in truth he was desperate to get away. It was to his great displeasure, then, when Fenris calmly pushed off the wall and followed after him, stretching his arms above his head as Cullen passed through the door. “Might as well see these recruits,” Fenris said with a shrug. With no other choice, Cullen led him out onto the battlements and down into the courtyard. He didn’t turn to look, but he could’ve sworn he heard Fenris snickering mockingly to himself as they made their way down the great stone stairs.  
  
The recruits were assembled dutifully in the yard below. Captain Rylen stood with them, though he had the look of someone who had been caught in the act and frozen quickly; likely, he had been pacing up and down their ranks to keep them in line. He’d made the long journey from Griffon Wing Keep to be present at this training. Cullen was wearing thin, and with Cassandra busy and his lieutenants increasingly stretched thin managing demons, red templars, rogue mages, and all manner of foul and evil threats, he had few reliable officers left to train new recruits, which poured in by the dozen each day.   
  
Needless to say, Cullen appreciated Rylen’s presence.

They’d known each other for a long time, fought together, and been through many trials in their journeys before the Inquisition. It’d been weeks since he’d last actually laid eyes on the man, however, and he was  _not_  going to let Fenris spoil their reunion.

“Rylen,” Cullen said as he approached.

“Commander,” Rylen said respectfully. His Starkhaven accent made him seem gentle, something Cullen had always liked about him. He was stern, hardy, tough as nails, but a good man at heart. “The recruits have been inspected,” Rylen reported. “They are ready for your orders.”  
  
Cullen made a perfunctory pass up and down their line. They didn’t dare move, though a few stifled nervous coughs. They weren’t an impressive-looking bunch, but he hoped they had spirit; the Inquisitor drew that kind of recruit to Skyhold. Cullen spotted a scrappy-looking female recruit among the front line that gave him hope. He was instantly impressed; she was nearly half as tall as the rest of them, but looked twice as tough. Cullen returned to Rylen, ready to commend him, but the captain’s attention was focused elsewhere.

He was staring at Fenris.

“Er… Who is… Who is this, sir?” Rylen asked. Fenris was glowering at the assembly from where he perched atop the wooden fences lining the training ring. “Oh,” Cullen said wearily. “That’s… His name is Fenris. He’s… He was… He’s…” Cullen didn’t know what to say. How to introduce such a character?  
  
“Hello,” Fenris said, and Cullen was momentarily glad of the help. He was reminded why he was frustrated, however, when Fenris flashed a grimacing smile, and neither the commander nor the captain knew how to react. “Fenris…” Rylen said. “I’ve heard some of the men speak that name. Apparently you’re a warrior of some renown.”  
  
“Ask anyone in Tevinter,” Fenris replied.  
  
“Perhaps you’d like to teach the recruits a thing or two,” Rylen suggested, with a sly smile Cullen knew was meant for him. The commander thought he heard some of the recruits shuffle nervously. “I’m… not sure that’s such a good idea,” he said.

“Why not?” Rylen asked. “They need to know the worst of what’s out there. In the Western Approach, we see wyverns on top of darkspawn on top of spellbinders and bandits. What’s one elf warrior against all that?” Cullen shook his head, and pressed a gloved finger to his temple, but he knew there was nothing he could say to prevent any of it. “What do you say - Fenris, was it?” Rylen asked. “Are you willing?”  
  
Fenris stayed silent a moment. Then, apparently decided, he unfolded his arms, cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders, stretching the tight leather bandolier, the only thing covering his muscled, tattooed torso. “Do you have a broadsword?” he asked plainly.

“Recruit!” Rylen barked. “Find a training sword for the elf.”

“We’re going to regret this,” Cullen said.

“You need to relax a little,” Rylen replied, nudging his old comrade. “I’d like to see  _you_  in that ring for a round with the elf.”

“Not on your life,” Cullen replied. “He’d eviscerate me.”

“Put a sword and a shield in your hands, and I hear you’re still a _competent_  warrior,” Rylen joked. Fenris had taken his place in the centre of the training ring, and the recruits were lining up in preparation. The two men turned to watch. Fenris gripped his weapon like he’d done it all his life, and every muscle in his arms rippled, from his knuckles to his shoulders. “Let’s make it two against one to start,” Fenris said. “It will give them a bit more confidence.”  
  
“If you like,” Rylen said. A second soldier tentatively joined the first in the ring> They looked ready enough, but both were flat on their backs before the elf had swung his sword five times. “Next!” Fenris called. “Too slow. Ever seen a mage hurl a ball of flame at you? You’d be roasted in a second. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“This is a bad idea,” Cullen sighed, mostly to himself.

“Oh, take a load off, Curly.”

Varric sauntered up to the ring behind the two commanders, and both turned to look as he took a spot between them. All three silently crossed their arms and stared as Fenris took down another pair of recruits, then another, who were joined by an overzealous third, who hit the ground hardest of them all. “Broody’s good with a sword,” Varric said. “The recruits need a good breaking in. This’ll be good for them.” As if to punctuate the point, Fenris roared from where he stood in the middle of the ring, and his latest victims fell to the dirt.

“I… suppose you may be right,” Cullen said. “But he’s not staying for good, is he? We can’t have this much of a circus every time we bring in a new group of recruits.”  
  
“Only time will tell, Curly,” Varric said. He fell silent to watch as the battle grew more intense, drawing a small crowd of onlookers; templars and mages, Orlesians in formal dress, dignitaries and travelling merchants, the odd Grey Warden. “Was there something I heard about you getting in the ring?” Varric asked, loud enough for the closest spectators and recruits to hear. He tried to hide his smile, but failed miserably. “Absolutely not,” Cullen replied.

“The commander? In the ring?” one of the recruits cried excitedly.

“No!” Cullen said sternly, turning the recruit back to attention with a wave of his hand. A larger crowd began to form then, spilling out from the tavern, half-drunk even at midday, while others came from the blacksmith, great hall, and main tower. Cullen grew more nervous with each new bystander, and especially uncomfortable when he noticed Cassandra, Bull, Blackwall and Sera among the crowd.  _Next the Inquisitor will show up_ , Cullen thought.  _That’s all I need_.

***

As the afternoon wore on, Fenris had personally taken down each recruit at least once, but they soon got the hang of things with a little practice, and some coaching from Rylen. After Cullen gave some well-meaning suggestions and some tough drills on stance, form, and rudimentary tactics, they managed to beat the elf more than once, but each battle was hard fought. Still, he was bruised by the end of it, and more than a little sweaty, but he looked pleased, and Cullen was happy with the results, despite himself. He allowed the recruits to disperse, hoping the crowd would go with them. But, before they were out of earshot, Fenris’s voice cut through the chatter, and Cullen froze where he stood.

“Did I hear something about you entering the ring,  _commander?_ ”

Cullen didn’t turn. He wouldn’t rise to the taunt, wouldn’t allow himself to be goaded, wouldn’t give in to the old temptation to smash the violent, arrogant elf on the steps of Kirkwall’s Circle tower… He looked around, and half of Skyhold seemed to be present, watching, waiting, hoping he would give them a show worth talking about. Cullen spotted Leliana and Josephine, giggling to themselves like children. His cheeks flushed.

“How about it, Curly?” Varric asked, cutting through the crowd to Cullen, but speaking loud enough for the others to hear. “Wanna give the people what they came for?”

A cheer erupted, just as loud from the crowd as from the assembled recruits. Cullen was stuck. He could not turn back now. He was just glad the Inquisitor wasn’t there…

“Alright,” he said. “Someone get me a blighted sword.”

A thunderous cry arose from the crowd, and Cullen made his way into the ring, hoping he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt. Rylen handed him a shield, and a blunted sword; he hadn’t used anything like it since he was a recruit himself, at Ferelden’s Circle. It felt strange in his hand, unfamiliar. He tried not to let it get to him.

Across the ring, Fenris was tired, and he looked it. Cullen hoped to use that to his advantage, but not to seem like he was doing so, in case it made the battle look unfair. He took a fighting stance, and Fenris sauntered back into the centre of the ring, sword slung low on his muscled back. Cullen tried to size him up. They’d never actually fought before. This would be a test for both of them.

“Are you going to fight me with all that armour on?” Fenris asked. An electric whisper passed through the crowd, and Cullen flushed. “I need all the help I can get, elf,” he said. “Don’t press your luck.”  
  
“No argument here,” Fenris said, and he readied his blade. Cullen raised his sword, and let forth as loud and proud a roar as he could muster. The crowd took it up with him, but Fenris flourished his sword in an impressive display, and drew their attention back to him. The elf brandished his weapon in a charging stance, and Cullen raised his shield. They rushed at one another, and steel clashed on steel. The cheers of the crowd drowned out the rest. It was all Cullen could remember of the fight.

It was dark by the time they were done, and both men were too exhausted to continue. With no clear winner, it was decided to let the contest end in an even draw. The crowd did not seem disappointed, however. Far from it. When the men laid down their swords, the assembled force erupted in fresh cheers. The moon was out and high in the sky, and dinner had passed almost unnoticed in the castle, but the crowd seemed more than sated. Across the ring, Fenris offered Cullen his hand. “A fine fight,” he said. “Good to know the Inquisition has someone with heart leading its troops.”  
  
“You fought well,” Cullen said. He tried to keep his voice level, despite his exhaustion, and his panting breath. “A worthy opponent. I misjudged you.”  
  
“Don’t get too sentimental, Curly,” Varric interjected from the side of the ring. “I don’t think the readers would like that. You’re more the strong, stoic type, right?” He stifled a chuckle.

“You are  _not_  to write this down, dwarf.”

“I would read it,” Leliana said, approaching the ring as the crowd began to disperse, heading to the tavern or back to the great hall. “So would I,” Cassandra replied, taking a spot beside the spymaster. Both women smiled, and stifled a giggle. “I’ll never live this down, will I?” Cullen said.

“Not until the rematch,” Varric laughed, and Leliana laughed, and Fenris allowed himself a chuckle as well, and it was just like they were all old friends again. Separated by time or fate or circumstance, they’d all been together at one point or another. Then, in that moment, they were all together at once, and it felt right, like nothing had ever split them apart.

“Will you join your men and I for a drink?” Fenris asked. He clapped Cullen on the back, and the commander winced. “You’re buying,” he said, and together the two of them made their way into the tavern, already filled with tales of their glorious battle. _Not so bad as I imagined_ , Cullen thought.  _Not bad at all_.


End file.
